


in the middle of the jungle

by softlees



Series: this is life in color [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Companion Piece, Fluff, M/M, Soulmates, and things go on from there, i think??? im kind of awful at writing it, lots of Soonyoung Thoughts about how pretty wonwoo is, soonyoung is in love, with a little bit of, wonwoo is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 21:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13303953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlees/pseuds/softlees
Summary: It is absolutely absurd that someone that he abhors with the entirety of his being can affect his life so much, but what he hates the most is that, if he really thinks about it, his timeline can be split cleanly into two: Before Wonwoo, and After Wonwoo.It’s kind of unfair, actually. Sometimes it feels like the only constant in his life is Wonwoo.(in which soonyoung discovers that sometimes stories can begin and end with the same person.)





	in the middle of the jungle

**Author's Note:**

> [big sweat] this is my first time writing snwu after reading loads of it n i just rly hope i did them boys justice!! 
> 
> all mistakes are mine n mine alone this is kind of a jumbling mess im sorry
> 
> big shoutout to miss kait:  
> thank you for introducing me to this wonderful pair (ive been enlightened) & bringing me to one of the bestest groups i've ever had the privilege to be in (rhhb). i seriously owe u my life. u are always so supportive n wonderful n im so excited to see where the world takes u, because ur definitely going places. happy birthday, my love. i kind of wanted to publish it later but i finished this today n have no idea when i'd be available to post it aha so here it is....
> 
> title is from noah kahan's young blood!! a rly good soundtrack for this fic, i believe.

 

Soonyoung and Wonwoo weren’t always like this. They didn’t always use to be two fighters in a ring, trading punches and bloody blows, stuck in a boxing match that never quite had an end.

Once upon a time, they were acquaintances. Friends, even.

And if Soonyoung went further back than that, there was once a time where they had no idea who the other was at all. No inkling to even hint at the fact that, when they were to meet, they’d end up derailing each other lives in the most spectacular way possible.

It was a peaceful existence, even if he has little to no recollection of it at all.

It is absolutely absurd that someone that he abhors with the entirety of his being can affect his life so much, but what he hates the most is that, if he really thinks about it, his timeline can be split cleanly into two: Before Wonwoo, and After Wonwoo.

There isn’t much in between. Nothing worth mentioning, anyways. Wonwoo has always been the catalyst, the central factor that drives most of the things that happen Soonyoung’s life.

It’s kind of unfair, actually. Sometimes it feels like the only constant in his life is Wonwoo.

He doesn’t know what to make of it. Nor does he want to.

And neither does Wonwoo, so, there they lie, in this limbo, a sort of hellish purgatory that tugs heavily both of their hearts.

An open wound, raw and aching and open, waits patiently for something to stitch it back together again.

 

—

 

When they meet, a part of Soonyoung’s universe collapses in upon itself.

They are five, and Soonyoung has an unfortunate penchant for wetting his pants.

To be fair, it _is_ kindergarten, and Soonyoung is a rather excitable kid. Anyone who has control over something as pesky as their bladder is immediately deemed a god by their fellow classmates, revered and held to the highest order. They even get first dibs on the apple juice, an incentive placed by teachers who absolutely despise Soonyoung and his lack of bladder control.

Wonwoo is one of these kids. Even at this age, Soonyoung insists, he is despicable. The rumors floating around the schoolyard tell Soonyoung that Wonwoo shares his apple juice, like a bumbling _idiot_ , with whoever asks him, simply because, and Soonyoung quotes, “he didn’t really care for it”. What kind of five year old says that? What kind of five year old doesn’t care for apple juice? He is just so, _nice_.

It horrifies Soonyoung.

But it also interests him.

Soonyoung, being of simple mind, and as a result, even simpler pleasures, adores the beverage.

He plans to ask Wonwoo for it, before any of the other kids do. They’re not in the same class, so it makes it extra hard to ensure the spot. But what Soonyoung wants, Soonyoung gets. He even draws up crooked schematics in crayon during arts and crafts, little mutilated stick figures with blobs of different shades of violet and interesting interpretations of the school’s buildings.

It’s the only color Soonyoung can see in at the moment. He’s making do.

With every stroke of crayon orchestrated by his chubby hands, he manages to illustrate his plans in great detail.

“Soonyoung!” Mrs. Chwe claps her hands together in delight, peering over his shoulder at his drawings. “Sweetie, that is _so_ lovely!” Soonyoung watches enough cable to know she’s not telling the truth.

“Thank you, Mrs. Chwe,” Soonyoung beams, flashing a grin that he knows shows off his chubby cheeks and melts many hearts. “I tried my bestest.”

She hums pleasantly. “Oh, I’m sure you did, dear.” She leaves then, onto Jiwon’s desk, which has a drawing of something that looks like a bunny, and of course, gets some real praise from his teacher. Soonyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes. Simpletons.

He turns his attention to the paper in front of him, and holds it out with two hands, peering at it with growing glee.  

“Oh, it’s _on_ ,” Soonyoung grins, staring at his masterpiece in admiration. “Jeon Wonwoo, you are _so_ going to share your apple juice with me.”

Even at five, Soonyoung is diabolical.

The bell rings, and Soonyoung bolts out of his chair, nearly knocking over Jiwon and her drawing in his haste. “Hey!” she says. Soonyoung tosses a hasty apology back at her while running to Wonwoo’s classroom door. There is no rest for the wicked, especially when it comes to sharing apple juice.

His feet skid across the pavement, one foot in front of the other, the wind whipping against his face as he runs across the courtyard to room B120. His target is, as always, one of the last to leave the classroom, and today is no different. The breeze ruffles Wonwoo’s hair gently as he waves goodbye to his homeroom teacher, apple juice clutched in one hand.

He’s bundled in a giant parka today, which would’ve made Soonyoung look like a giant pudgy marshmallow, but because the world is kind to boys like Wonwoo, he looks endearing. Cute, even,  Soonyoung thinks as his tiny legs propel him towards Wonwoo.

“Hi,” Soonyoung pants, locking eyes with the other boy, as he puts his hands on his knees. He barely registers the fact that something is sparking in his vision, bringing a new hue to his horizons. _It’s red_ , Soonyoung thinks, numbly, surely, somewhere in the back of his mind, beyond all that desire for apple juice.

It’s red.

“Hi,” he tries again, pushing past it. _Focus, Soonyoung,_ he reminds himself sternly, _you have a mission here_. “Hi, you don’t really know me and I don’t really know you, but can I have some of your apple juice?”

Wonwoo blinks, slow, sure. Soonyoung wiggles impatiently. “Okay?”

Soonyoung squeals with glee. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says, gripping the aforementioned drink in his hand. “I don’t really care for it much. You can have it. You obviously want it more.”

Then, it hits Soonyoung. Or, rather, something warm registers on his internal radar. _Oh_. Oh, no. He looks down at his pants, and at the warm stain slowly growing bigger.

Love at first pee. Yeah, that’s new. They don’t tell you about that in the storybooks.

Wonwoo doesn’t talk, doesn’t do anything, just pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and offers Soonyoung his apple juice. He unfurls Soonyoung’s fist with long, slender fingers, and places the box in Soonyoung’s hand. He even has the audacity to smile.

“Here.” Wonwoo says, simply, and just walks away, leaving Soonyoung blushing wildly in embarrassment, the tips of his ears on fire as his classmates laugh and peer at him.  

That should’ve been Soonyoung’s first warning sign, in retrospect.

But because he is a fool, and mostly because he doesn’t learn the meaning of the word retrospect until the tenth grade, Soonyoung does not stay away from Wonwoo, or his apple juice.

Life might’ve have been a lot easier if he had.

 

—

 

Wonwoo never says anything about The Incident to Soonyoung, after it happens. He doesn’t mention anything about seeing the color red to Soonyoung either. What he _does_ do, however, baffles Soonyoung entirely.

He saves Soonyoung his apple juice. Every single day after that.

“Here,” Wonwoo says, offering the familiar yellow carton to Soonyoung. He ducks his head, but Soonyoung can still catch the tail end of a blush making its way across his cheeks.

He stares at it, and then at its owner. Soonyoung blinks, tilts his head to the side. 

“What’s this for?”

“What are you doing? Aren’t you going to take it?” Wonwoo asks huffily, hands moving to his hips. He shoves the apple juice box into Soonyoung’s hands. “Here, I saved this for you.” 

“Thank you?” Soonyoung barely manages to get out the words before Wonwoo sprints halfway across the courtyard without a single glance back. He looks down at his hand, where the gift lies, and clutches it a bit tighter with chubby hands, all alone.

The cartoon characters inscribed on the box seem to almost be laughing at him.

Soonyoung may be loud and brash, but he isn’t naive. He knows about the woeful tales of people who find someone, only to find that they’re not meant for each other in this life. Maybe Wonwoo is trying to let him down easy. With apple juice.

Soonyoung appreciates the effort. But, he figures, for a boy who spends as much time reading as Wonwoo does, he’d be more willing to sort things out with words. He guesses not. He shrugs to himself more than anything else, and plops down in the sandbox, hands already scrambling to open the straw to stick into his newly acquired juice box.

It sucks that his true love isn’t mutual, but Soonyoung’s always been tough. He’ll make do.

He finds his way to Lee Seokmin in kindergarten, and the rest is history. New soulmates are always exciting, especially when it is Lee Seokmin, a boy with a heart way too big for his chest and a wide smile to dazzle the world around him. Soonyoung is very much enamored by his friend.

Wonwoo becomes forgotten, at least, for a little while.

But of course, because the world is nearly not as kind to Soonyoung as it is to Wonwoo, they end up filtering into the same elementary school, and the same middle school. At this rate, it looks like they’ll end up going to the same high school too. Jeon Wonwoo is a curse that Soonyoung cannot seem to shake, or figure out, and that frustrates him to no end.

Everywhere Soonyoung goes, Wonwoo is there. Lurking in the shadows. Hovering in the background. Orbiting Soonyoung’s peripherals, but never quite crashing into them.  

He never goes up directly to Soonyoung, though, and that’s perhaps what bothers him the most.

“Do you have a problem with me?” Soonyoung asks bluntly, one day, when Wonwoo hands him a juice box. He doesn’t miss the way Wonwoo flusters and nearly drops the carton.

“N-no!” Wonwoo says. “Why would you think that?”

“Well,” Soonyoung says, matter-of-factly. “For starters, you _loom_.”

“I loom?” Wonwoo asks, incredulous.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung nods. “You just stand, all dark and mysterious, in the corner, _looming_. You don’t say anything to me. You’re kinda just. There.”

“I-” Wonwoo starts in protest, but falls silent when Soonyoung shoots him a glare and an “Ah ah ah!”, waggling his pointer finger at the other boy.

“Let me finish.” Soonyoung straightens. “Second, you never _stay_ after you hand me the apple juice. You always hightail it out of here like I’ve got the cheese touch or something.” He looks at Wonwoo with a pout on his face. “I don’t think I’m _that_ disgusting to look at, am I?”

Wonwoo colors, blinking, and adjusts his glasses with nervous fingers. “You’re miffed about that?”

Soonyoung waves the question away. “Besides the point here, Wonwoo. The thing is, you don’t talk to me at all, which is fine if we went about doing our own things and never interacted with each other ever again, but then you’re always going and doing nice things like this.”

Soonyoung lifts the carton between them, and shakes it in Wonwoo’s face. He looks up at Wonwoo imploringly, beseeching. “Is it because I peed my pants in front of you in nursery school?”

Wonwoo falls silent. At this point, he’s taken a seat next to Sooyoung on the bench, feet scuffling as they hang off the ground.

“I don’t hate you.” It’s a rumble that spreads through Wonwoo’s chest, and Soonyoung feels the younger boy reply rather than hears it. 

“You don’t?” Soonyoung’s reply is fast. _Too_ fast. Very immediate. He curses himself a little bit in the moment, but luckily enough for him, Wonwoo seems to be too deep in his thoughts to notice.

“No.”

“Then,” Soonyoung can feel the gears of his mind creak against each other in attempt to figure it out, “why…?”

It’s quiet. Wonwoo shrugs, toes tracing figure eights on the concrete.

Soonyoung can feel himself getting irrationally angry, can feel the blood boiling under his skin and the tips of his ears turn hot.

Seokmin always tells him that he’s like a kettle one step from boiling over. It is a phrase Seokmin learned from one of neighborhood grandmas that he’s always putting on theater shows for. Soonyoung would punch him if Seokmin didn’t look so pleased with himself whenever he said it.

“Whatever,” he says, getting up. “If you’re not going to answer me, fine. Just stop making fun of me, okay? I was five. You don’t always have to remind me of the time I embarrassed myself in front of everybody else. I do that enough now, anyways.”

“No, wait -” Wonwoo blinks out of his reverie, hand outstretched towards Soonyoung to stop him from leaving, “That’s not what I meant -” But Soonyoung is already out of earshot. A grim sort of vindication rises into the back of his throat, the intensity of the bitterness threatening to topple him over as he walks away.

 _Good riddance_ , he thinks, sniffling a little, sleeves coming up to wipe a suddenly watery nose. _Screw you, Jeon Wonwoo._

The thing that hurts Soonyoung most is that he knows somewhere lodged deep down in his chest, there’d been a flicker of hope. Maybe Wonwoo _did_ want to be friends with him. Maybe Wonwoo had wanted to get to know him better. Maybe Wonwoo wanted to be soulmates.

Of course, now that dream sits in shambles all around him, shards sharp enough to cut him if he’s not careful enough. Soonyoung mutters angrily, kicking at the ground, upset with himself more than anything else.

He has always been a little bit fanciful. It’s kind of hard not to be, when he is surrounded by industries who have taken a notion as simple as soulmates and spun entire enterprises around it, marketing its success; it’s also kind of hard not to be when he has a best friend like Seokmin, who has been in love with the idea of love since the beginning of time. 

 _There’s always someone for you out there_ , the actors on television always tell him, with too wide smiles and too pale, too perfect skin.

Soonyoung should really stop watching cable. Because even if it is true, it doesn’t matter anyways - his soulmate obviously doesn’t want to be there for him.

 

—

 

Soonyoung’s dislike for Wonwoo stays with him all the way to high school. He is a master at holding grudges, and holding one against Wonwoo seems to be the perfect retribution for his antics in elementary school.His feelings for the other boy can be perfectly summed up in one sentence: Jeon Wonwoo is a big fat stinkyhead.

Soonyoung knows this. He, in fact, has known this, and would like someone to note it down for recordkeeping. Just so that, when everyone else in the world realizes beyond Wonwoo’s bookish and nerdy exterior lies a rather mulish, annoying, and mean-hearted character - as Soonyoung’s been _saying_ all these years - he has proof, in writing, that he told them so.

“Saying _I told you so_ is only fun when you’re in a better position to laugh at the people you want to spite,” Jihoon says shortly, shattering Soonyoung’s dreams, reaching over and swooping the coke bottle from his tray.

Soonyoung grumbles. “Only you, Lee Jihoon, destroyer of dreams and fun times, could make something fun not fun.”

Jihoon slurps the cola innocently. “It’s a real talent.”

“Don’t make light of my misery, you sick bastard. You’re enjoying this, are you?” Soonyoung narrows his eyes at Jihoon, waving a fork in his direction. The other boy just makes a noncommittal sound and shrugs, which means that yeah, he really could care less. Soonyoung grumbles. He needs new friends.

“Ooh,” Seokmin appears, sliding next to Soonyoung. “Are we making light, now? I thought that was only for plants, but, now that I think of it, Soonyoung, you’ve been looking a bit _green_.”

A beat passes. Seokmin’s grin widens, eyebrows raising higher and higher into his hairline. He even adds jazz hands for good measure. Soonyoung and Jihoon just stare blankly at him, nonplussed.

Seokmin’s smile drops a couple wattages as his mouth contorts into a magnificent scowl.  

“C’mon guys, that was _funny._ ” He moves to opens up his lunch and begins to pick at it gloomily. “It took me the entirety of biology to come up with that one.”

“I’m sure it did, Seokminnie.” Jihoon nods understandingly, patting Seokmin on the shoulder.

“Fuck off,” Seokmin complains, without any heat at all, smile once again occupying up a wide expanse of his face. Soonyoung looks at him enviously, wishing that he was _that_ carefree and stress free to offer up a grin of his own. Lately though, he’s been swimming in a deep pool of misery and self-loathing.

Soonyoung scoffs. High school. It’ll do that to you.

“Yeah, anyways,” he says, clapping his hands together with fanfare, sobering up. “I kind of was in the middle of a mid-life crisis. I’ll continue that now. I’m just trying figure out how I can say ‘my world is ending in approximately one and a half days and there has been nothing but screaming inside my head ever since I found out’ in words that you two might just be able to understand.”

“Ooh, ASMR.” Seokmin pipes up. “Nice.”  

Soonyoung shoots him a baleful glare. “No, Seokmin, _not_ nice.”

“You’re fourteen, not forty.” Jihoon points out, ever so helpfully. “I don’t think this is what a mid-life crisis means. 

Soonyoung ignores him. “It’s quite the serious predicament.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon snorts, “As important as an underfunded, understaffed, and quite frankly, lackluster high school theater production as can be.”

“Hey,” Seungkwan says in protest as he joins them at the table, placing his tray next to Jihoon’s. “We’re _in_ this underfunded, understaffed, and lackluster theater production, you know.”

Jihoon looks at him, eyebrows raised. “My point exactly.”

Seungkwan frowns, but acknowledges the jab with a quick shake of his head. He doesn’t say another word, just stabs his plastic fork into his sad, miserable meatloaf cafeteria dish.

“It _is_ important! My pride and dignity are at stake here, Jihoon.” Soonyoung slams a palm on the table, causing Seungkwan to yelp and drops his fork in the meatloaf. Seokmin mutters a quick prayer for it, eyes moving heavenward.

Jihoon snorts. “In what way?”

“As a _man._ ” Soonyoung squints, curling his hands around the edge of the table. “Wonwoo has challenged me in my own house. He’s successfully invaded my territory, infiltrated my safe spaces.” He straightens, eyes narrowing as he points at a certain beanie-wearing lunatic from across the cafeteria hall. “He’s taken this too far.”

They all turn to look where he’s pointing. Wonwoo has somehow managed to get his glasses stuck in his beanie, and is currently attempting to remove them without further damage to his precious garment. Wonwoo, however, is also atrociously blind without his glasses, so he’s squinting at the damn thing in his hands, not paying attention to the fact that his hair, beanie-less, has begun to poof skyward in unruly fashion.

In a certain light, it could be almost endearing. Soonyoung gags.

“Yes,” Jihoon rolls his eyes, “because _that_ is so very intimidating.”

Seungkwan smirks behind his meatloaf. “Wow, I’m really shaking in my boots here, Soonyoung.”

“Is this a good time to point out that we were the ones that asked him to man the tech booth for us?” Seokmin asks out loud, to no one in particular.

Soonyoung yells in defeat, and burrows his head in his hands. “This is exactly what I’ve been talking about! He’s even convinced my own friends to conspire against me. What has this world come to? Who can I even _trust_?”

“No one, really.” Seokmin steals a grape from Soonyoung’s tray. He pops it into his mouth with a sly grin on his face. “You’ll thank us for this later, hyung.”

 

—

 

Soonyoung does not end up thanking his friends. 

What he ends up doing - of course, because the world is a mean place that especially loves to see Soonyoung crash and burn - is develop a huge fat crush on Jeon Wonwoo.

It starts small, small enough that Soonyoung doesn't notice. Little touches to the small of his back. Whispered conversation in between instructions, tiny inside jokes that are absolutely ridiculous but still somehow manage make his heart beam. Nose scrunches. 2AM phone call sessions in the dead of night, full of conversations about cheese and other weird things. 

Suddenly, his schedule automatically involves Wonwoo; it's like Soonyoung's pencilled him in for everything that he's decided to do and Wonwoo, being the kind of person that he is (responsible, mature, efficient - all of the things that Soonyoung is so very decidedly _not_ ), somehow always ends up having time to do it with him. 

Seokmin teases him about it. Soonyoung can't find it in him to care. He likes the other boy's company - dry, soul-crushing wit included. He's not all that particularly bad to look at either.

His crush billows into something magnificently spectacular junior year. He can't even talk to Wonwoo without his ears turning firetruck red. In the wintertime it's fine, because he can just pull a beanie over them without attracting too much attention, but now? In the spring? He'll just have to tell people he has a perpetual sunburn. Only on tips of his ears, though.

Soonyoung sighs. It's highschool, land of the obtuse, the gullible and the easily swayed. His classmates will believe him. And if they don't, well, there's only really one boy he needs to fool.

Speaking of which. He yells in frustration, out of nowhere, startling the freshmen, and buries his hands into his face. To heck with Wonwoo, and his dumb stupid face and his dumb stupid attractiveness and his dumb, _stupid_ -

“Repressed teenager,” Wonwoo clucks his tongue sympathetically. “It’s all the rage now, isn’t it?”

Face. Soonyoung groans and buries his face in his hands, refusing to look at the bane of his existence. 

"I read it in a magazine somewhere," Soonyoung says halfheartedly. "It's probably true." 

"Ah," Wonwoo nods seriously. " _Angst! 17 Signs that Your Child is No Longer! Welcome To The Teenaged Years, Parents._ " He pauses, and pulls a lollipop out from the depths of his jean pockets before unwrapping it and shoving it into his mouth. Wonwoo's had an obsession with them lately. Soonyoung has noticed, and therefore has developed an unhealthy obsession for his obsession.  "I read that one too." Wonwoo warbles around the candy. "I'd give it a five out of ten." 

"The accuracy was laughable." Soonyoung offers, shrugging his shoulders. "Not all teenagers are secret occultists and blast bloodcurdling heavy metal to deal with their angst, contrary to popular belief." 

"Yeah," Wonwoo snorts, mock offended. "Some of us get off watching illegal HD streams of pirated movies. Please, some of us have class." 

"Oof," Soonyoung nearly drools in his mouth at the mention of such a thing. "That's sexy."

"Right?" Wonwoo says, pulling out the lollipop with a soft _pop!_ and waving it around, crinkling his nose in disgust. Soonyoung nearly cries in repressed teenager right then and there.  "Satanism isn't really my cup of tea." 

Soonyoung laughs, getting deeper into character. "But you're lying if you don't have some sort of cult meeting in your room once in a while to discuss virgin sacrifices."

Wonwoo's eyes flash, bright, and _oh_ , there pops out that sly grin of his again. Soonyoung feels a tug at his heart."I thought I was the only one."

"Please," Soonyoung says, grinning. "I even got an ouija board and everything. Wanna come over sometime and try it out?" 

"Oh, baby, count me in." 

Soonyoung kind of wilts internally at the fact that Wonwoo just said _baby_ in his deep husky voice. He represses the thought and keeps it for later, when he's alone to properly deal with it.

While all this is happening, Soonyoung's face just keeps getting closer to Wonwoo's. It happens all the time, but more so as of late. They just gravitate towards one another, as if they were always meant to breathe in each other's space. It's a thing. It's their thing. It's totally natural. It keeps their healthy platonic relationship thriving.

Soonyoung's totally okay with it. (He's not.)

"Uh, guys?" Seokmin asks, sounding exhausted, hair mussed and eye bags dark under his eyes. Soonyoung and Wonwoo both turn to him, hunched over a notebook and furiously scribbling. "I know it's like, lunch and everything, but could you take this weird flirting thing you have going on with each other away from here?" 

"I'm not-" 

"We're not-" 

Soonyoung and Wonwoo both fluster at the same time, mouths babbling a mile a minute. 

Seokmin looks at them, his eyes the deadest Soonyoung's ever seen them. Again, Soonyoung reiterates. High school. It'll do that to you. 

"Soonyoung," Seokmin says flatly, like he's tired of everything and just wants something from the heavens to drop on him and kill him dead, "you just inadvertently asked Wonwoo out."

He looks at Wonwoo. "And Wonwoo, you agreed without a single hesitation. You also, I might add, called him baby. Which, ew, I'm not trying to delve into your kinks, but you might consider getting some help." He sighs and stares down at his paper, muttering to himself more than anything else. "You guys are also ridiculously close to one another. Either kiss him or punch him. I'm just trying to finish this last lab report, guys, _please_ save it for the bedroom."

They leap apart. Soonyoung's face feels like it's melting off, and he's too embarrassed to look at Wonwoo's to see his reaction. They both mutter a hasty sorry to Seokmin and skedaddle in opposite directions, Soonyoung towards his next class, and Wonwoo towards the library.

They miss the amused smile on Seokmin's face as he watches them go.

 

—

 

It starts to go wrong, as it always does when it involves Wonwoo, with a beverage of some sort and a loose mouth. 

They’re sitting in the back of Soonyoung’s truck, just the two of them. Seokmin has to babysit his niece, a tiny thing that Seokmin is absolutely terrified of dropping, and Seungkwan, with a heart of gold and a big weakness for anything smaller than him and breathing, gets roped into helping him. Jihoon is staying up cramming a ten-page essay that really could’ve been done had he started on it several weeks earlier, when it had been assigned.

And so because Wonwoo is an overachieving nerd that budgets his time well enough that he’s free on a school night, and because Soonyoung is good enough of a student to not care, they’re out here, under the stars, trading stories and sips of beer, swallowing it down with wry grimaces splattered across their face.

“Ugh,” Wonwoo frowns, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, offering the bottle to Soonyoung. He’s slurring a bit, and his glasses are a little bit askew, perched dangerously on the bridge of his nose. Soonyoung kind of wants to kiss him. “I kind of forgot how disgusting beer really was.”

“I know,” Soonyoung says instead, choosing not to focus on the dangerous shade of pink dusting Wonwoo’s cheeks and takes another gulp. “You complain about the taste everytime we do this.”

Wonwoo blinks slowly, gaze burning into Soonyoung’s. He almost forgets to breathe.

“Do I, really?” Wonwoo finally says, mouth curling into a wide Cheshire-like grin. “And here I was thinking that you didn’t pay attention to a single thing that came out of my mouth.”

“99% of the things that come out that cavernous hole you call a mouth is bullshit,” Soonyoung shrugs, panicking slightly when Wonwoo’s eyebrow raises dubiously. “But some things manage to slip through anyways. Call it an unfortunate side effect of being your friend.”

He laments internally at the fact that he pays attention to everything that comes out of the other’s mouth, mainly because Wonwoo’s lips have become _very_ interesting to him as of late.

Wonwoo laughs, nose scrunching, unaware of Soonyoung’s mental crisis. “Touché.” 

Soonyoung passes the booze to Wonwoo’s outstretched hands when he makes grabby hand gestures, laughing loudly when Wonwoo nearly drops it.

“Klutz,” he teases. 

“Shut up, or I’ll ditch you and take the booze with me,” Wonwoo grumbles threateningly, but doesn’t get up to move, just sinks further against the grill of Soonyoung’s truck with a little _oof_. 

Soonyoung resists the urge to point out that he and Wonwoo are indirectly making out at this point, with how many times the bottle has been passed between them. Even then, he thinks that Wonwoo wouldn’t get the hint. He’s kind of an oblivious bastard.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says out of the blue, snapping Soonyoung out of his thoughts.

“Hey.” Soonyoung says back cautiously.

Wonwoo laughs then, a deep rumbling sound, his nose scrunching up. Soonyoung feels his cheeks heat up, just because. This has always been his favorite Wonwoo laugh. It unfolds in the most spectacular of ways - it’s a science that Soonyoung has devoted almost the entirety of his life to, Wonwoo’s laughs. He’s got it mapped down to a tee.

Wonwoo’s mouth ticks upward, slow, unsure, wobbly, and then, as if finally catching the memo, the rest of his grin follows in a burst of pure unadulterated joy, shining brightly. His nose scrunch follows suit, as if desperately wanting to experience the feeling too.

Soonyoung stares, a bit transfixed, a little bit in love.

“Your cheeks are pretty like that.” Wonwoo says.

“What?” Soonyoung flusters, cupping his cheeks, wincing at the heat coming off of them when he puts his hands to his face. He prays to all that is good and holy in the world that it’s dark enough and Wonwoo is too inebriated to properly see the flush on them. “Like what?”

Wonwoo tilts his head to the side, drunkenly propping it up with an arm that barely cooperates. “Like that.”

Soonyoung stays mute. He doesn’t know what to say. Wonwoo just looks unbelievably pleased with himself, and some part of Soonyoung chuckles at his inability to hold his liquor. Another part of him quakes with fear.

Sometimes, they get in these moments, he and Wonwoo, where the world spirals down to just them two, where the space in between lies fragile. It feels like walking on ice and teetering over a tightrope ten thousand stories up, all at once. One step, another word, a slight sound, and the spell fractures, disintegrating in a million of tiny pieces. The world spins on. Soonyoung finds that it becomes easy to breathe again.

(He never knows what it destroys though. Maybe it’s what he and Wonwoo could be. What they never are. What they don’t dare touch.)

This time, it’s Wonwoo who takes a sledgehammer, smashing it without a single ounce of regret.

“Your cheeks,” he says delightedly, pointing. “They’re red.”

Soonyoung lifts a hand up to his cheek. It’s a hollow action, something that’ll anchor him to the ground. He has this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that causes it to churn violently. Breathing has suddenly become difficult in this moment.

“My cheeks?” He asks, but only as a formality. For some reason, something tells him that he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“Mhm.” Wonwoo peers sleepily up at him. “They’re a pretty red.”

Soonyoung blinks then. He feels stupid. He probably looks stupid too. He can feel tears swell in the corners of his eyes, his mouth quivering slightly. His breathing accelerates as his eyes start to sting. Soonyoung wishes he could be anywhere but here.

Of course, because Wonwoo is a little too far gone and because this is always how they’ve worked - Soonyoung caring too much, and Wonwoo not enough - he doesn’t notice, just continues to plow on.

“I’ve always meant to tell you that you’ve got pretty cheeks.” Wonwoo laughs lowly, but this time, it’s a little self-deprecating. Soonyoung doesn’t notice, doesn’t care to notice, and just slots his gaze skyward. There’s a lump in his throat and something gaping in his chest. His fists clench.

Soonyoung feels _dirty_.

Now Wonwoo’s babbling, a mess of words that Soonyoung can’t really seem to wrap his head around, thanks to the ringing in his ears. He catches bits and phrases, but doesn’t get enough to string them into sentences that’ll make sense.

The parts that he does manage to make out crush his heart just a little bit more.

“I mean, I know I should’ve told you before-”

“We were just kids, and it was weird, being so young-”

“I was just afraid, you know?”

What Soonyoung hears is this: _I am ashamed of you_.

And maybe that’s what hurts him the most.

“Soonyoung?” Wonwoo asks worriedly, fixing his glasses. “A-are you alright?”

Soonyoung looks at him then, eyes flashing with pain and disgust and desire and loathing. He wonders if Wonwoo cares enough to notice that it’s there. He opens his mouth to answer, but pauses at the tremble in the breath he takes. Soonyoung settles instead for firmly nodding his head instead, hoping to god Wonwoo doesn’t push it any further.

He doesn’t.  

Soonyoung closes his eyes, clenches his fists, and feels an angry tear slip down. God, he feels so _dumb_. Of course Wonwoo would never want to be soulmates with him, a boy who is brash and wild and untameable and is ruled by a mouth that has no mind of its own. No wonder he didn’t say anything.

Soonyoung scoffs, all of a sudden very much sober, and very much suffocated.

The thing about the suburbs is that it latches onto you with its claws, all its domesticity, and it makes you _settle_. Soonyoung has been settling all this time - settling with the fact that he has had a gigantic crush on Wonwoo, settling with the fact that his true love wasn’t ever going to love him back, settling with the fact that it was most definitely going to be like this for the rest of his life.

Soonyoung has settled for pining after a boy that wasn’t going to ever pay him any time of day.

And if you peered a little further into Soonyoung’s mind, you’d see that he had already begun to make space for the five thousand cats he is planning to adopt sometime in the near future.

It hits him then. He needs to get out. Get out and away from this town. From the people in it.

Specifically, away from Wonwoo.

He gets up. 

“Hm,” Wonwoo hums, lets out a little giggle. “Where are you going?”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer for a while, taking a seat at the end of the flatbed, feet dangling listlessly as he stares out into the expanse of the night. Everything’s pitch black, save for several flickering street lights that should really get replaced and the tiny glow of lamps on porches. The perks of living in suburbia, Soonyoung supposes. The whole world goes quiet after ten o'clock.  

He kind of wishes the stars would swallow him whole.

“Soonie?” Wonwoo tugs on his arm. “What’s wrong? Is it something that I said?” 

Soonyoung swallows hard, looking down at the delicate fingers encircled around his wrist, and curses the world. He curses the world for being too mean to him. He curses the world for being unfair. He curses the world for giving him a heart that won’t listen. 

“No, it’s nothing,” he says, hating how hoarse he sounds. “I just figured something out.” 

“Oh,” Wonwoo says, dropping his hand. Soonyoung despises the way he finds himself missing its warmth.

It’s quiet for a beat more.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Wonwoo sounds small, hesitant, unsure. 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung turns back his gaze back where he’d been looking before, resisting the urge to yell at the sky. “Yeah, it is.”

Resolve settles, heavy on his mind and on his shoulders, but for some reason, he feels more at ease than he has in a while. It’s decided, then. In a few more months, he’ll get out of this godforsaken town. He’ll travel the world. See new things. Become a new person. Experience new highs, with new people.

He looks back at Wonwoo, who has fallen deeply asleep, wire frames glinting in the moonlight, chest moving up and down softly, in sync with a heartbeat Soonyoung can only ever hope to understand.

He sighs. _Just a couple months more_ , he promises the craters of the moon. They stay stoic and silent, unwilling to say anything, but it doesn’t matter. Soonyoung knows the sound of his bones, knows them like the back of his hand, knows that they know him better than he himself does. And in this matter, they are singing with the promise of a Wonwoo-free future.

Soonyoung nods, resolute.

Just a couple months more.

 

—

 

As expected, Seokmin is the one who sobs like a baby when they graduate. 

“I just,” Seokmin babbles, wiping his tears, “I’ve known you guys since forever, and now, we’re growing up, and going our own ways, and-”

Soonyoung just crushes his best friend to his chest, and lets him sob into his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung breathes. “You don’t have to explain to me, bud. I get it.”

Soonyoung's learned growing up that there are instances in which words don't work. He finds himself in these moments more than ever as of late.

He knows that there isn't one way to accurately describe the anguish Seokmin feels at leaving the only home he's known, at leaving the comfort of their tiny city, where it’s safe and he knows everyone and everyone knows him. There isn’t a set definition for the dread crawling up Wonwoo’s spine as he looks at the fees for law school, already anticipating the crushing weight of student loans, or the uncertainty Seungkwan faces as he takes on the responsibility of shaping the world by becoming a kindergarten teacher. There isn't any correct way to encompass the anxiousness Jihoon experiences with being separated from them - the first family he's ever felt like he's been a part of - or the minute fear Soonyoung has trickling in the back of his mind about pursuing a major that does not guarantee his future.

There are thousands of words in the English language, but none of them are adequate enough to describe the pure emotion they're all feeling in this moment. And so it goes unspoken.

Soonyoung's always been a huge advocate of taking action, anyways. Words have always been more of a Wonwoo thing.

They're in Soonyoung's basement tonight, for a grad party he never really wanted but his parents decided that they wanted to throw anyways, inviting a bunch of relatives that he never knew existed until now.

It feels like some kind of cheap show, parading around a son they weren't really proud of - not until they were sure that he was going to graduate, that is.

Soonyoung's been dealing with being a crushing disappointment all his life. He'll be fine.

That's not the part he's unhappy about. He's unhappy because he won't be able to hang out with his friends, just them, free from the charade that Soonyoung's parents are all too happy to keep up - that they are a happy family, that they genuinely enjoy being together.

 _Just a couple months more_ , Soonyoung reminds himself, taking a deep breath as he waves to an aunt who squeals in delight and claims to remember him "since he was a wee baby".

Just a few more months, and he's out of here.

Seokmin sniffles in his arms. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you."

Soonyoung straightens up at that, and holds at Seokmin at arms length, hands on both of his shoulders.

"Hey," he says with a lopsided grin, "you act like we're going to opposite ends of the earth. I'm going to the same university as you, dipwad."

Seokmin just lets out another watery laugh, and Soonyoung lets him bury his head in his clothes, patting his head comfortingly. He grimaces in fond affection as he feels Seokmin's tears begin to seep into his t-shirt, but pays no attention to the discomfort. He loves his friend too much to say anything about it.

Besides, it'll be great teasing material for later, when they're some sort of grown, at college (!!! it still doesn't feel real) and sharing a slice of pizza a couple hundred miles from home.

Soonyoung continues to pat Seokmin's back. Thankfully, the other boy's sobs have subsided, diminishing into strangled breathing and slight sniffles. His gaze strays to the other side of the room, where one boy in particular catches his attention.

He and Wonwoo have never revisited that day, in the truck. Soonyoung does what he does best - he dances around the problem, avoiding it entirely. If there's a slight shift between their dynamic after that, Wonwoo doesn't mention it either. Soonyoung is tired of trying to sort things out, just desperately tries to hold a front down that he's only half convinced is worth keeping.

(This is a lie. Soonyoung is selfish. In any universe, he thinks that he’d still want to be close to Wonwoo, no matter the consequences.)

They get a bunch of stares from their friends. Soonyoung becomes the recipient of worried glances from Seokmin, which is new. He's never been the one they'd have to worry about. He’s always been infallible, the indestructible Kwon Soonyoung. He’s fine. He has to be. He ignores their concerns, ignores the weight crushing on his shoulders, works on getting his diploma. Sometimes it's so heavy he forgets from breathe.

Wonwoo does the same. They're great actors. KBS should sign them.

Soonyoung doesn't tell Wonwoo that he's a major reason as to why he's applied to university so far away, but then again, Wonwoo's always been smart when it comes to Soonyoung. He knows without Soonyoung having to say anything about it.

They find each other, as the night winds down.

Soonyoung's leaning over the railing of their front porch, watching the street light flicker on, off, on, off again, summer breeze curling around his neck. There's a party going on inside, but he doesn't feel up for it. He's not up for much these days. 

Someone opens the door, the frame rattling as it closes shut, and stands next to him. The wood creaks under their weight. Soonyoung doesn't have to look to know it's Wonwoo. 

"So," Wonwoo says in his familiar rumble, with tired eyes and a heavy soul. "You're really going, aren't you?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Soonyoung snorts internally.

"Yeah." Soonyoung says, proud of the way his voice hardly falters.

"Well, then. Good luck.” 

Soonyoung wants to cry. Three and a half years of friendship, and this is all they can say to each other.

"You're going into law, right?" He tries. "That's going to be tough."

"Yep." Wonwoo says, popping the 'p'.

"Good luck." 

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"Don't mention it."

"I won't."

The conversation stalls then, the both of them having run out of words to say and meaningless congratulations to give. The crickets sing their hymnals under Soonyoung's feet in the dead of night.

Soonyoung sighs, suddenly feeling ancient. He's tired of trying to decode all the words lying underneath the conversations that they have with each other. If they can even be called that.

If he was a better man, he'd turn to Wonwoo and tell him all the things that plague his mind and keep him up at night, of the crippling fear that seems to tail him at every turn, because of them. Whatever they are. Whatever they aren't. If he was a better man, he'd try to deal with this gaping wound left open between them, try to make it right before they both left.

He's not, though. A better man, that is. They're just scared little kids trying to masquerade as something more. Emotions are all too real, all too raw. It's better to save it for another day, to shove in a box under his bed, for when he feels more ready to deal with it. Maybe that day will never come for Soonyoung.

Looking at Wonwoo's face, stoic and unreadable in the night, Soonyoung thinks that he'd maybe be okay with that.

They leave it at that.

Wonwoo murmurs a half-hearted goodbye, some excuse about needing to finish scholarship details, and walks off into the night. Soonyoung watches him go.

 

—

  


Life away from home is … different.

Soonyoung breathes easier now.

College is everything he wants and more. The experience is freeing. Soonyoung grows into himself even more, doesn't settle. He meets a couple soulmates along the way, fills his life with a little bit more color, and lives. Doors are opening for him in ways that he’s only really beginning to understand, and his future is filled with opportunities his younger self would be so proud of him for being able to accomplish - he’s just completed his second tour as a backup dancer for one of the most famous bands in the country.

Wonwoo is just a whisper at the back of his mind, the pre-law student having gone to a posh collage far far away from the reaches of Soonyoung’s universe. Soonyoung’s not complaining.

For once in his life, he feels separated from Wonwoo. It isn’t Wonwoo and Soonyoung or Soonyoung and Wonwoo. It’s just him. Just Kwon Soonyoung. He feels like his own person. It’s a good feeling. He likes the taste of it in his lungs, no matter the strange twist in his heart on late nights, deep in his pensive thoughts.

"Hello?" Soonyoung says, balancing his coffee with one hand and trying to scribble something he's just remembered with another, cradling his cellphone between his chin and shoulder. "Who's this?"

"I'm offended that you don't recognize me," comes a tinny voice, but it's still magnificently bright enough for Soonyoung to recognize. "You know, for all those years we've been friends, I kind of expected better, but then again, you're a Gemini, so I should've known. Your kind can't be trusted."

"Hey, you!" Soonyoung laughs brightly, taking the comment in stride. "What's up buddy?"

"You've got plans Saturday night?"

Soonyoung racks his mental calendar for anything he might be missing, and comes up short. “Nope, I haven’t got anything, but I’m guessing I’ve got them now.”

“Smart man,” Seokmin says. Soonyoung doesn’t have to see him to know that he’s smiling broadly. He can just hear it in his voice. He’d missed Seokmin so much, having not been able to see his best friend for the past couple months thanks to the touring stint, but he doesn’t say it.

He and Seokmin have always operated on the same wavelength anyhow; they don’t need to tell each other for the other to know.

“Anyways,” Seokmin interrupts Soonyoung’s thoughts, “you, me, and baby Boo. Jeonghan’s cafe?”

Soonyoung crinkles his nose. “That place?”

Seokmin sounds offended. “Hey, C’est la Vie is a perfectly respectable establishment!”

“Exactly.” Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “I’m turning twenty-five, not fifty-two, Seokmin. Respectable is for cardigan wearing grandmas who like to knit and crochet in their spare time. We aren’t quite there yet.”

The line is suspiciously silent for a long while.

Soonyoung sighs. “Seokmin, don’t you dare tell me that you’re actually wearing a cardigan right now.”

“They’re comfy!” Seokmin protests. “Don’t hate on them, Soonie. They’re like wearing a giant blanket, all cozy and stuff. I finally understand people’s unhealthy obsessions with them.”

“It’s the fucking summertime, Seokmin.”

“There are summer cardigans,” Seokmin says belligerently. “You uncultured swine.”

Soonyoung pulls his phone away from where he’s cradling it and stares at the receiver. Seokmin’s profile picture is a goofy selfie the two of them took together after an all-nighter; their hair is all sorts of messed up and there are god-awful bags under their eyes, but they look unbelievably happy. He contemplates hanging up on the phone and deleting every trace of Seokmin on it whatsoever.

This has to rank in the top ten saddest anime betrayals ever. It has to.

“Oh my god.” Soonyoung says instead, horrified. “I can’t believe you.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Seokmin singsongs. “I’ll convert you to cardigan-ism by the end of this year, mark my words.”

Soonyoung has never heard something so despicable in his entire life. “Over my dead body,” he spits vehemently into his phone.

“That can be arranged.”

Soonyoung laughs with Seokmin. “Please, actually. I just realized that twenty-five is fucking old.”

“Who’s the grandpa now?” Seokmin teases.

“Still you, actually.” Soonyoung fires back. “I still cannot believe that you’re wearing a cardigan. Who in your dumbass internship convinced you that it was a good fashion choice? It has to be one of those book-making dweebs.”

“I am one of those book-making dweebs, you know.”

“They’ve converted you,” Soonyoung whispers into the receiver, horrified. “The Seokmin I knew and grew up with would have never admitted this. Listen, blink twice, and I’ll get you out of there, Seokmin. They’re holding you hostage, aren’t you.”

“This is a phone call," Seokmin says, amused. "Good _night_ , Soonyoung. I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Give me a name.” Soonyoung pleads desperately. “I won’t do anything, promise, I just want to have some words.”

He’s met with a click and a dial tone.

Soonyoung lets out a happy sigh. He's missed this. He's missed Seokmin. He's missed Seungkwan and Jihoon and their tiny arguments, hanging out in the basement of his house and being entangled up in one another. He misses the days of his youth.

He puts down the coffee he's been cradling and walks over to his shelf, filled with the brim with eccentric bits and trinkets that he's collected over the years. Trophies and medals are slung haphazardly over one another, collecting dust, while picture frames and magazine clippings dot the rest of the landscape. There are even tiny magnets and dolls, remnants of the places he's traveled to over the years.  

It's a testament to the kind of life that Soonyoung's been living: always going, never staying.

Hoarding has always been a nasty habit of his, but he can't bring himself to throw any of these things away. Soonyoung's always been like this, anyways. He's always kept room for the things he might not necessarily need anymore, saving them because his heart has grown terribly fond of them.

The garbage is a scary place to put the things you loved at one point in your life. It feels final, and Soonyoung has never been a fan of finality. He'd rather leave the door open just a crack so maybe, just maybe, whatever he had grown distant from could slip back in and he could love it again, truly, once more. Like it deserved to be.

His fingers stop at a picture, and he lets out a soft sigh, hands curling around the frame. It's a picture of two boys. One is wearing a smile that could power the stars, and the other is staring at him with a fond sort of gaze that makes Soonyoung think that they'd try and gather the universe just for the boy even if it killed them.

He knows the word for it. Smitten.

His mind traces the shape of the first boy's features, marveling at how well his heart remembers the lines of a face he was sure he wanted to forget. It is easy, slipping back into these shoes, as if they were waiting for Soonyoung this entire time. A specific someone's name rests on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be said, but he shakes himself and taps lightly on his head before he can delve down a path that he's not entirely too sure he wants to go on. 

It is dangerous to speak words into existence, sometimes.

His phone buzzes, as if on cue.

Soonyoung looks at it, and his breath catches in his chest.

 **jeon wonwoo:** uhm i know we haven’t talked and

 **jeon wonwoo:** this might be weird, but

 **jeon wonwoo:** happy 25th, soonyoung

 **jeon wonwoo:** you’re a quarter of a century now

Soonyoung stares at his screen, and then doubles checks the date just to be sure. His heart is doing something awfully funny in his chest.

Some things never change.

Soonyoung lets the text stew for a while before he punches a quick reply, just out of courtesy. He’s sweating internally all the while. It’s polite, right? To thank someone for wishing you a happy birthday?

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Soonyoung is mind blown. Wonwoo remembered. Even after all this time.

(“What does that say about him?” Seokmin says, while they’re at the bar, eyes kind and welcoming, beckoning Soonyoung to open a box of feelings he hadn’t planned on dissecting anytime soon. Seungkwan hangs onto Seokmin’s shoulders, eyes bright and shining and just a little bit hopeful. Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, just savors the burn down his throat as he tosses another shot down. He doesn’t want to think about it.)

 

—

 

“Remind me again why I offered to help you do this?” Jihoon mutters around a giant cardboard box, nearly toppling over with the weight of it once again. He lets out a couple expletives as he tries to right himself.

“Because you’re a good friend and this is what good friends do, Jihoon.” Soonyoung says matter of factly, placing down his own box of trinkets and lets out a happy sigh, surveying the small studio. It’s a small space in reality, but for the city, where skyscrapers touch the skyline and everything is crammed into every single nook and cranny possible, it’s huge. There is paint peeling at the corners and mysterious stains lining the walls, and it may not look like much, but Soonyoung has a dream. And that has always been enough for him.

He claps his hands together, eyes shining, mind already painting the studio in bright vibrant colors, filling the space with the pitter patter of feet attached to determined young dancers, the aroma of hard work and something suspiciously like sweat already filling the air.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jihoon grumbles, dropping the box he’s holding unceremoniously next to Soonyoung’s foot. “I’m the greatest. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Soonyoung waves him off, eyes never quite leaving the walls in front of him. “Shush, old man.”

“Old man?”Jihoon splutters indignantly, clutching his fists. “ _You’re_ the one who’s retiring.”

“Semantics.” Soonyoung crosses his arms. “Jihoon, you’ve been a grandpa since middle school.”

“Have not!”

Soonyoung raises an eyebrow. “You used to sit on your lawn during the summer and yell at kids who ran across your lawn.”

“It’s because my mom would’ve whooped my ass if another kid crushed her hydrangeas!” Jihoon protests, but it sounds half-hearted even to his ears, his shoulders drooping in defeat.

Silence fills the air. They’re both remembering simpler times, and marveling at how well they’ve grown up. Jihoon is a big hotshot producer now for the biggest video game company in the entire world, and well, Soonyoung just cashed in everything he owned to buy a run down dance studio in the heart of the city.

(Success is subjective, he reassures himself, not at all worrying about the funds - or lack thereof - in his bank account.) 

“Coffee?” Soonyoung asks, mouth sliding up into an easy grin, as a means of a truce.

Jihoon takes it, nodding. “Yeah, but you’re paying.”

Soonyoung looks at Jihoon pleadingly, hands clasped together. Jihoon looks back, cold black eyes boring holes into Soonyoung’s. A beat passes.

“Right,” Jihoon says, shaking his head. “You’re broke. What was I thinking?”

Soonyoung slings his arm around Jihoon, smile growing wider. “You’re the bestest, Jihoonie.”

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face.” Jihoon mumbles. “I hate you. You’re paying me back once you start earning money again.”

“No you don’t!” Soonyoung chirps joyfully. “And you know I won’t.”

Jihoon knows very well Soonyoung won’t pay him back, but they go across the street to Jeonghan’s cafe place anyways. Jihoon cares a lot even if he won’t say anything, and Soonyoung knows he is worried about the risk he’s taken with renting the studio space. This is his way to offering to share the burden, even if it’s with something as minimal as a cup of coffee, without appearing too intrusive.This is Jihoon’s way of saying that he supports this venture, even if everyone else had told Soonyoung that it was very stupid and that it wasn’t going to make him a lot of money. He appreciates that about Jihoon - although he is a very prickly and callous person in nature, he would do anything for his friends in times of need.

Still, just to take the piss, Soonyoung orders the most expensive thing on the menu.

“Fuck you,” Jihoon hisses as he slides his credit card over to an amused Joshua.

“You’re making more than six figure a year,” Soonyoung calls over his shoulder gleefully as he walks away to look for a table. “You’re a big boy Jihoonie, your wallet can take it.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon mutters, sounding scandalized, as he finishes the transaction, “but it shouldn’t have to drop twelve dollars for a cup of glorified milk.”

“It’s _organic_ glorified milk,” Jeonghan calls, appearing from the kitchen, sly grin fixed on his face. “Very much worth the twelve dollars.”

“It’s a scam, that’s what it is,” Jihoon rolls his eyes, smiling all the while.

“It’s what puts money in my pocket and food on my plate,” Jeonghan shrugs. “I’m not complaining.” His face brightens when he spots Soonyoung. “Hey neighbor! How’s it going with the dance studio thing?”

“It’s going to be a lot of work, but I think it’s going to be fun.” Soonyoung grins. “It’s no organic cafe, but it’s dance, and that’s what I like to do, so. I’ll be fine.”

Jeonghan hums, wiping clean some glasses. “Mm, so where are you going to stay? You moved out of that hideous complex, right?”

Soonyoung makes a panicked bleating sound. Jeonghan widens his eyes, suddenly realizing his blunder, and mouths a hasty sorry before retreating into the back kitchen. Traitor.

Jihoon narrows his eyes, and looks over at Soonyoung. “Wait, you didn’t tell me you moved out of your apartment.”

“Surprise?” Soonyoung chances, throwing up jazz hands. “It’s more like evicted, anyways.” He shrugs. “I didn’t make last month’s rent.” He gets a slap upside the head for his troubles.

“ _Ow_! Jesus,” Soonyoung grumbles, rubbing the back of his head. “You still hit as hard as you did when we were in high school.”

“Kwon Soonyoung,” Jihoon says, voice devoid of any sympathy. “Are you telling me that you do not have a place to stay for the foreseeable future.”

“I have my studio,” Soonyoung starts, but shrivels when Jihoon affixes him with a stare so cold that the winters in Busan would be proud.

“You are _not_ living in that studio.” Jihoon frowns. “It’s the wintertime, and your utilities are only going to go up. You can barely afford it as it is.”

“I so can too,” Soonyoung mirrors Jihoon’s expression. “I’ll be fine.” 

“No you won’t.”

“Yes I will.” 

“ _No_ , you won’t.”

“ _Yes_ , I will.” 

“Listen, Soonyoung,” Jihoon says exasperatedly, “as your friend, I support you in this endeavor, but I draw the line at letting you sleep in your rickety old studio. I know someone who needs a roommate. Theirs just moved out, and rent is relatively cheap. Of course, it’s not the best neighborhood, but it gets you a roof over your head and a place to sleep at night.” 

Soonyoung squints. “What’s the catch?”

Jihoon looks up, and swallows nervously. “It’s Wonwoo.” 

Soonyoung feels his world stutter for a moment. Somehow, it really does always come back to him.  

“Jihoon, no.”

“Wonwoo’s a good guy, Soonyoung.” Jihoon looks sad for a moment, like he knows something that Soonyoung doesn’t. “It’d be good for you guys, I think.”

“It’s never been good for us,” Soonyoung mutters bitterly.

Joshua calls their names, and as they grab their drinks, Jihoon just says, softly, “Just think about it, will you? Please, for my peace of mind. I worry about you, sometimes.”

It stays with him throughout the rest of the day, Jihoon’s worried face, his expression. And eventually, he manages to talk himself into it. Soonyoung would be a fool to prefer the hardwood floor over a nice, warm bed. That’s what he keeps telling himself as he pulls out his phone later that night, debating whether or not to call.

It’s not like he deleted Wonwoo’s contact anyways, Soonyoung figures, as he presses the button. There’s always been a maybe with Wonwoo. A hope for starting anew.

(And oh, how Soonyoung hopes.)

 

—

 

They meet up in a cafe. Soonyoung marvels at how it feels; they’re two not-so-strangers meeting again. For the first time, though, they are comfortable as themselves, and not extensions of the other. Wonwoo’s bony hands envelope Soonyoung’s tinier ones in a brief handshake. They’re still as cold as ever.

They don’t talk about the past. Soonyoung prefers it that way. Wonwoo’s a fan of letting sleeping dogs lie too. There isn’t any awkward chitter chatter, or pleasantries to exchange. Instead, they talk about the future. What they want to be, what they aim to achieve, what exactly it is that they dream.

“I’m still in law,” Wonwoo offers. _I’m doing fine._

“I’m going to teach dance.” Soonyoung says. _Me too_.

“That sounds fun.” Wonwoo smiles pleasantly. _Are you happy?_

“Not as stuffy as law, yeah,” Soonyoung laughs. _Are you?_

At the end of it, Soonyoung is baffled to find just how easy it is. He forgot how it easy it is to forget where he is when he’s with Wonwoo. Where the boundaries are drawn, and where they are not. He finds himself leaning into Wonwoo’s space more often than not, stumbling over lines he’s not actually all too sure are there or not. He slips into Wonwoo comfortably, and the other man lets him.

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” Wonwoo grins, slipping Soonyoung a key. Soonyoung pretends his heart doesn’t jumpstart into overdrive at that, and offers a hesitant smile back.

“Thanks.”

  


—

 

Having Wonwoo as a roommate is a lot easier than Soonyoung had thought it’d be.

They fall into each other’s routines comfortably. Wonwoo likes his coffee black, Soonyoung prefers his with a lot of sugar. Wonwoo stays up late at night to scour his case files, Soonyoung does it with him to keep him company and to take care of him, since he has nothing else to do and nowhere else to be. Where Wonwoo is tall enough to reach the higher shelves without having to balance haphazardly on a chair, Soonyoung is tiny enough to scramble in between the spaces of their cabinet and fix their temperamental sink.

It works for them.

It’s also disgustingly domestic.

Soonyoung has busied himself with getting ready for the day, making two pieces of toast with extra eggs because he knows that Wonwoo has overslept, yet again.

The man in question blinks from behind his lenses, head popping up from the couch. “Soonyoung?” He yawns, tufts of his hair sticking up this way and that. Soonyoung ignores the tug at his heart and shoves it deep into a drawer where it’ll never be found, and just chuckles to himself as he sips on his coffee.

He’s practically a pro at this now. Hiding his feelings. Ignoring the fluttering feeling in his chest every time Wonwoo does something particularly stupid or cute, like smile in Soonyoung’s direction.

Soonyoung’s a simple man. He doesn’t need much.

“Right here, buddy.” 

Wonwoo stretches, back cracking obscenely loud in the morning air. He yawns again. “Why am I on the couch again?”

“Because you weigh like a sack of stones when you’re knocked out cold and you’re bony as hell,” Soonyoung says. “And I got distracted by the impromptu Harry Potter movie marathon you were holding.”

“I told you not to let me do that ever again,” Wonwoo whines, rubbing at his eyes. “My back is _killing_ me.”

“You are an adult perfectly capable of making your own decisions,” Soonyoung sniffs. “It is not my job nor my place to tell you what to do.” He joins Wonwoo on the couch, and pats his thigh invitingly. Wonwoo obliges, and rests his head on it, snuggling in with a dangerously adorably sigh.

“I know,” Wonwoo pouts, blowing a raspberry. “But it’s nice to be coddled.”

“We’ve got to go to work soon,” he reminds Wonwoo gently. “There’s toast and eggs on the counter.” 

Wonwoo frowns, closing his eyes. “I don’t wanna.” 

Soonyoung huffs out a laugh at Wonwoo’s petulance. 

“We’ve gotta put food on the table somehow, dude.”

Wonwoo opens one eye lazily, and points up at Soonyoung. “You can do that. I’m fine where I am.”

“Ah,” Soonyoung sighs. “So this is what it’s come to, hasn’t it.”

“You try dealing with a mentor as anal as Mr. Park.” Wonwoo groans, and pulls a pillow over his head. He lets out a muffled scream. Soonyoung takes pity on the poor boy and pats his head comfortingly. It’s part of the reason why he opened his own studio - operating around someone else’s hours and having to be subjected to all their whims just never quite sat right with him. “It’s exhausting being the breadwinner. I’ll let you have this one, Soonie.”

“How very gracious of you,” Soonyoung rolls his eyes. He looks down at Wonwoo, grin spreading widely across his face as an idea makes its way to the forefront of his mind. “You know what would probably get you up?” He wiggles his fingers.

“Don’t you dare,” Wonwoo threatens, but by then he’s already tickling and Wonwoo is squealing in a pitch much higher than Soonyoung would expect and they’re a mess of arm and legs, laughing, breathless.

“Stop it!” Wonwoo wheezes. Soonyoung doesn’t.

“Soonyoung!” Wonwoo is practically crying at this point.

“Wonwoo!” Soonyoung parrots back, grinning.

“Fine!” Wonwoo leaps up from the couch, arms arranged in a fighter stance, chest heaving. “I’m up! I’m up! You win.” He hangs his head in defeat, voice forlorn. “I will go to my _soul-crushing_ job, and deal with my _soul-crushing_ boss and have my soul _crushed_ to smithereens. Just another normal day at work, you know, no biggie. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

Wonwoo pads grudgingly to the kitchen, and Soonyoung turns around, hands resting on the back of the couch to watch him go. 

“Hey Wonwoo?” Soonyoung says, before his mind can tell him no.

“Mm,” Wonwoo says, looking up from his eggs and toast.

“You…” Soonyoung scrunches his nose, and points at Wonwoo threateningly. 

“You…” Wonwoo chuckles, mimicking him. “Me, what?” 

 _Stop being so cute. Stop making me fall for you._ None of those sentences make it out of his mouth because Soonyoung is, at heart, a coward.  

“Stop being such a dork.” He finishes lamely. “No one’s going to want to room with you in the future, you big oversized baby.” 

“Well,” Wonwoo laughs, closing his eyes. There’s the nose scrunch that Soonyoung is still so desperately in love with, even after all these years. “Good thing I already have you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says, “unfortunately.” But it lacks punch, and sounds a lot more wistful than he would like.

 

—

 

Soonyoung has gotten ready for a long night at home; Wonwoo isn’t coming home until later tonight, and he’s taking advantage of the fact that he’ll have the apartment all to himself for the first time in a long time by marathoning the _Cars_ franchise _._

Hey, don’t look at him like that. They’re beautiful movies. Cinematic masterpieces.

As he plops down onto his couch, bucket of popcorn buttered to perfection in one hand and soda in the other, there’s a soft hesitant knock on the door, so faint that Soonyoung thinks he imagines it until a couple seconds later another one comes, this one louder in volume.

He sighs, allowing a couple seconds to pass to properly mourn the comfortability of his position, and then gets up.

He opens the door and there Seokmin stands, hands in his pockets and looking a little bit small. 

“Hey,” Seokmin says nervously, staring at the floor. Soonyoung reads his face easily, can see all the anguish and worries on his friend’s face, and wishes to smooth the contortions on Seokmin’s face, to tell him that it’ll get better. The other boy has always been somewhat of an open book, there for the entire world to see, endearing and earnest and a little bit too honest. You just want to protect him. It’s hard not to.

Soonyoung kisses the Cars movie marathon goodbye, and instead, nudges his door wide open with a flourishing gesture.

“Come on in.” He points to the couch. “You’re welcome to get comfy if you want. There are blankets there, and I can steal some pillows from Wonwoo if you’d like. His feel like clouds, cause they’re not the cheap ones.”

Seokmin chokes out a laugh. “You always know what to do.” Then, quieter, “Thank you,” as he makes his way towards the couch, flopping onto it with a big sigh.

Soonyoung hums, digging into cabinets for hot chocolate, Seokmin’s comfort food. “Don’t mention it. You know you’re always welcome here, Seokmin.”

Seokmin clutches a pillow closer to his chest, and burrows himself into the blankets. “Sorry to intrude.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Soonyoung rolls his eyes, tearing open the packets and mixing them with extra milk, just because he knows that’s the way Seokmin likes it and because making hot chocolate with water is a criminal offense worthy of a madman. “I’m a grown man planning to watch Disney movies for the rest of the night. It’s not exactly an exciting night.”

He pads over to Seokmin with the mugs and hands one to him, right leg folding under his left as he takes a seat on the couch. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“Thank you,” Seokmin grins feebly, blowing across the surface before taking a cautionary sip. He nearly spits out the beverage, and shoots it a quick look of betrayal before placing it on the small table next to the couch.

“I told you,” Soonyoung nags affectionately.  

“I know,” Seokmin whines. “I don’t really know what I expected.” 

“Idiot.”

Seokmin beams. This time it’s a real one. “I’m _your_ idiot.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Soonyoung chuckles, places his mug next to Seokmin’s. “I know.” He unfolds his leg out from under him and pats his thigh. He’s been told it’s a very comfortable thigh. Soonyoung thinks this is going to be his thing now. “C’mon, Seokminnie, what’s bothering you?”

Seokmin bites his lip but obliges anyways, settling in.

“I just get scared, you know?”

Soonyoung cards his fingers through Seokmin’s hair.

“We all get scared. It’s okay to be. Life is terrifying, just a little bit, sometimes.” 

Seokmin rolls over and props himself on his elbows. His voice gets incredibly soft, like just before he’s about to cry. “Well, can you tell life to stop? I don’t like it.” 

Soonyoung laughs. “You and me both, buddy.”

Seokmin rolls back over, pillowing his head against Soonyoung’s thigh. Soonyoung feels his deep sigh rather than hears it, a wide shuddering exhale that seems to expel all of Seokmin’s fears and anxieties with it.

“What if they never come? What if I never get to meet them?”

Soonyoung looks at his best friend, and his heart aches for him.

“Well,” Soonyoung says. “I wouldn’t bet everything on a _what if_ . I like my odds better with _when_.”

“When.” Seokmin repeats to himself. He looks at Soonyoung, smiling. “Yeah, yeah. I like that.”

They spend the rest of the night laughing over old memories and spilling secrets that they never told each other, eyes drooping all the while. Somewhile around one in the morning, they’re out cold. 

Soonyoung wakes up to the sound of keys rattling.

“You guys had a sleepover without me?” Wonwoo asks softly, very much amused.

“Mm,” Soonyoung whispers sleepily back, rubbing his eyes. “It wasn’t planned though.”

“Tough night?” Wonwoo places his briefcase on the kitchen table before walking over to where Soonyoung and Seokmin are on the couch, leans over the back of it, his breath tickling the back of Soonyoung’s neck.

“Yeah,” Sooonyoung hums, looking down at Seokmin, and runs his hand through Seokmin’s hair, smoothing the crease in his brow. “He’s worried about soulmates again.”

“Ah,” Wonwoo says.

“Ah,” Soonyoung echoes.

“Mm,” Wonwoo murmurs, right beside Soonyoung’s ear, “well, I’m going to go shower and get ready for bed. It’s late.”

“Go do that,” Soonyoung wrinkles his nose, and yawns. “You stink.”

“Okay.” Wonwoo’s rumbling laugh is warm. It makes Soonyoung’s heart melt.

He turns back to tell Wonwoo about the lack of soap, eyes already closed, and then Soonyoung feels a light pressure against his lips. They’re a nice pair of lips, he thinks, melting into it a little bit.

He opens his eyes when he comes to his senses. Wonwoo is staring right back at him, mouth perfectly pink and in the shape of an ‘ _o_ ’.

The night expands in the space between them, like they’re teetering on a precipice, like whatever it is between them has finally reached its boiling point. The magnitude of the moment, even in a space so quiet, with Seokmin nestled on his lap and the late hours of the night settling in, takes Soonyoung’s breath away.  

“Did you just kiss me?” Soonyoung breathes, fingers coming up to touch his lips.

“You kissed me back!” Wonwoo points out, eyes wide.

“Shut up.” Soonyoung flusters, trying to keep his voice down. Seokmin mutters something about Snowy and giving her a trim. 

“You shut up.” Wonwoo whispers back, just as flustered. They kind of just stare at each other then, the dim light of their kitchen casting over their faces. Soonyoung doesn’t want to know what’s plastered on his face. He’s absolutely terrified, eyes roving over Wonwoo’s face. Soonyoung’s never been able to read him particularly well.

“Snowy,” Seokmin moans, breaking the silence. “Come back here. Daddy needs to give you a bath.”

That breaks the spell. Wonwoo darts back into his room, nearly slamming it in his haste to get away, muttering something about needing to clean up. Soonyoung ends up staring straight ahead, lips still tingling, mind numbingly blank, unsure of what exactly to do.

 

—

 

Soonyoung needs to move out. 

He tells Seokmin about this, and the midnight kiss. Seokmin just claps his hands delightedly together and yells “Finally!” heavenward. 

“I gotta collect my twenty from Seungkwan,” he crows, pulling out his phone and rattling off a quick text to their other best friend. Soonyoung imagines it says something along the lines of _pay up, bitch_. They aren’t really your best friend if they don’t profit from your pain, he thinks mournfully.

“Traitor,” Soonyoung hisses, frantically scrolling through his contacts. Everyone he knows is settled down in a house with a white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and a dog. No one’s looking for a roommate anymore. Not in this economy, anyways.

After a tiring day of battling his inner demons and battling little demons in the form of the kids he’s teaching, Soonyoung sprints up the stairs to the tainted apartment that he and Wonwoo share, as if there is a demon chasing after him, and quickly slots the key into the door, opening it with ease.

Wonwoo is sitting at the kitchen table, facing the door, as if expecting him.

“Jesus _christ_ , Wonwoo!” Soonyoung clutches his heart. He looks at the clock. “You weren’t supposed to be home until 8 today.” 

Wonwoo lifts an eyebrow. “I went home early.” 

“Damn,” Soonyoung mutters under his breath. He hadn’t thought about that. 

“I think we should … talk.” Wonwoo says cautiously. “About what happened last night.”

“Nothing happened last night.” Soonyoung says, except it’s too fast, too bright, too chipper. Wonwoo gives him A Look. 

“Soonyoung.” Wonwoo stands up. This is his lawyer voice. It slips out when they’re arguing about important things, like who takes the trash out for the week and whose turn it is to do the dishes. Except, this time, it’s about a kiss. And most probably their future. “This is serious. And I think we should stop dancing around the matter.” 

“Wonwoo.” Soonyoung tries to impose the same air of superiority, but alas, he is only so tall.

“Soonyoung.” Wonwoo warns, irritability slipping beneath his voice. 

“Fine,” Soonyoung sighs, puts up both hands as a sign of surrender. He inches to the left, just slightly, a little bit at the time.

Wonwoo lets out a big sigh of relief, and begins talking, but Soonyoung isn’t paying attention. He’s plotting his escape.

His eyes shift towards the hall, and back at Wonwoo. Towards the hall. Back at Wonwoo. He can _so_ make it. Wonwoo realizes his intentions a little too late, and barely gets out a “Soonyoung-” before Soonyoung makes a break for it, sprinting down the corridor and diving for cover in his room.

Soonyoung manages to lock the door with clammy hands and breathes a sigh of relief when Wonwoo rattles the doorknob to no avail. He collapses onto his bed with a big huff, taking refuge until his mountainous pile of blankets.

“You can’t hide forever,” Wonwoo says, his voice sharp from behind the door.

“I can try,” Soonyoung says bravely. “I’m very good at hiding. I’ve always been a coward. I don’t understand why today should be any different.”

“Soonyoung,” Wonwoo says exasperatedly.

“Wonwoo.”

“Soon _young_.”

“Won _woo.”_

“Soonyoung, you open this door right now, or else so help me god, I’m going to kick it down.” Wonwoo sounds so sure, but Soonyoung knows better.

“I’d like to see you try,” Soonyoung hisses. “Rent in the city’s already a huge bitch to pay.”

“Fine,” Wonwoo says. It’s quiet for a while after that. Soonyoung relaxes into his blanket and lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

There’s a magnificent crash, the crackling of wood splintering, and suddenly, Soonyoung’s door is no more.

“What the _fuck_ , Wonwoo!” Soonyoung yells, gaping at the place where his door used to be.

“You said I wouldn’t.” Wonwoo says nonchalantly, like he didn’t just fucking barrel through Soonyoung’s bedroom door like a human wrecking ball. He just calmly dusts off his pants. “And so, here we are.”

Soonyoung stares at the mess lying around him, at Wonwoo, with his glasses askew, wearing a shirt that has definitely been Soonyoung’s at one point in time, filled with too many mysterious stains to count, and lets a sad laugh bubble out of him.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, just joins Soonyoung on the bed.

“Look at us.” Soonyoung gestures to the debris in front of them. “We’re kind of mess. 

“Can’t argue with you there,” Wonwoo nods.

Soonyoung turns to him. “What went wrong?”

“A lot of things,” Wonwoo says. “Mostly me, though.” 

“You’re not wrong,” Soonyoung shrugs, and gets shoved over for that. “Hey,” he defends, “I’m not going to disagree when it really has been you all this time.”

“Shut up,” Wonwoo laughs. “I’m trying to apologize here.”

Soonyoung straightens up at that. “I’m listening.”

“You ass.” 

“That is true,” Soonyoung acknowledges, pretending to wave around a gavel. “But irrelevant. Dismissed.”

Wonwoo stares at him, smile playing around the edges of his lips. “That’s not it works, you know.” 

“Are you calling Judge Judy a fraud?” Soonyoung gasps, offended.

“Soonyoung,” Wonwoo rolls his eyes, “Focus.”

“Right, right.” Soonyoung says. “Sorry. Apologize.” 

“Um,” Wonwoo takes off his glasses, and cleans them, suddenly nervous. “Yeah, so. I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time growing up.”

Soonyoung snorts. Wonwoo looks at him, scandalized. “Oh,” Soonyoung waves him on. “Don’t mind me, I’m just allergic to bullshit.”

“Shut up,” Wonwoo whines. “This is why I hate apologizing to you.” 

Soonyoung mimes zipping up his lips and tossing away the key. Wonwoo gives him an exasperated look, but continues to blunder into what turns out to be a speech of great magnitude, digging up feelings that Soonyoung thought he had bottled up ages ago. In the middle, the apology morphs into a promise, a beginning, a _maybe_. A couple tears are shed. All of them are Wonwoo’s, if you ask Soonyoung. All of them are Soonyoung’s, if you ask Wonwoo.

Wonwoo looks confident when he says, “But I’m not sorry for kissing you.” He shrugs. “I felt like that had to be said.”

Soonyoung leans over and plants one on Wonwoo, just because. Wonwoo looks starstruck.

“For your information,” Soonyoung says primly, “this is not me forgiving you. This is me kissing you because you have awfully nice lips and I wanted to see how they felt like. Again.”

Wonwoo smiles. “Duly noted.”

They’re grinning stupidly at each other now. 

“Come here,” Wonwoo pats his chest, and open his arms. “I wanna cuddle with your stupid face.”

Soonyoung marvels at how much it feels like coming home.

 

—

 

(“I hate to make you get up, but can we go to the hospital,” Wonwoo wheezes later, in between kisses. “I think I broke something.”

Soonyoung pulls back, hands tracing Wonwoo’s jaw gently, and wonders if the universe is being kind to him for once. 

“What?” Wonwoo whines. “I think I really did.”

“Nothing, you idiot,” he says, smiling, patting Wonwoo’s cheek. “Let’s go.”)

 

—

 

They’re sitting in their apartment, on their couch, tattered and well-worn. Soonyoung doesn’t have the heart throw it out. Wonwoo doesn’t have the heart to argue with him about it.

They’re talking about futures again, except this time, theirs have a little bit to do with each other. Hope blooms between them, gentle and aching.

Wonwoo laughs softly, and kisses the top of Soonyoung’s forehead.

“Maybe I’ll write a book about us.”

Soonyoung turns to look up at Wonwoo, nose crinkling. “Who’d want to read _that_?” He feels, rather than sees Wonwoo laugh again, a gentle huff that startles strands of Soonyoung’s head.

“I would.” Wonwoo says resolutely, resting his chin on top of Soonyoung’s head. “I would buy out all the copies.”

Soonyoung laughs. “Then you would be your only income source _and_ the cause of your debt. That’s not smart. Dummy.”

There’s a pause, and another snort. “You’re right.”

“Damn right I am,” Soonyoung says, pride slipping into his tone. “Where would you be, Mr. Jeon Wonwoo, if it wasn’t for me, the love of your life, to help you keep your wits about you? You’re lucky you got stuck with me, you know.”

An amused, “I know,” is all that comes out of Wonwoo’s mouth.

There lies an _I love you_ , somewhere, sandwiched in between those words. Soonyoung has gotten better at this, he thinks, the reading in between the lines thing. It’s how he and Wonwoo work.

And besides, Soonyoung thinks as he snuggles back into Wonwoo’s lap, his fingers playing with the hands laced around his waist, there is something a bit too raw about their lives to put into words.

It’s too real to fit nicely into a book, to be squished inside two pieces of leather and bound together with string, stuck maintaining fake countenances and happily ever afters in order to keep readers happy. 

Soonyoung doesn’t mind. His and Wonwoo’s story is odd. It starts off with pee and apple juice. Somewhere in the middle they fall in and out of love but at different times and with different circumstances. It’s all about the timing with them, and they have always been a bit off.

What matters though, is how it ends. It doesn’t end with a bang. There is no grand finale. Soonyoung isn’t entirely too sure if the pages of their story will ever be filled up. But it if were, if he were to orchestrate a sort of ending for the kind of people they are, for the kind of life they lived, he’d write it like this:

It ends softly, quietly, with kisses on foreheads and cuddle sessions to keep each other warm throughout the night. It ends with fingers curled around blankets and the smell of detergent running wild because Soonyoung had forgotten just exactly how much was too much and just ended up dumping the entire thing into the machine. It ends with hope curling around slightly watery smiles and a promise for forever as Wonwoo slides a ring onto Soonyoung’s fourth finger.

(This time, they’ll keep it.)

  


—

  


**Author's Note:**

> im [ on twitter if u wanna holler](http://twitter.com/swimnfoois)


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